Along the left side of the tunnel, shadowed by the corrugations of the pipe, was a large, greasy-looking, black splotch. Fluffy sniffed at the sooty residue and started growling, low in her chest.

“Vaporized someone,” I muttered, wishing I’d gone ahead and put on my armor. I couldn’t take a shot square-on, but I’d fare better than the bloke decorating the side of the passage.

There was a faint noise from up ahead and it occurred to me that, standing in the mouth of the tunnel with Fluffy, I was silhouetted nicely. Easy prey.

“Got your diapers, girl.”

Another, quieter noise.

I walked ahead, slowly, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. Fluffy kept pace with me and her growls dropped down into the subsonic range. She was stressed and I couldn’t blame her.

The next step I took made an odd crunching sound and I froze. Fluffy froze also, and her growl slipped back up into audible range. Gingerly, I shifted my foot back and knelt to see what I’d stepped on.